


Development

by Morgane (smilla840)



Series: Perspective [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dating is hard for SHIELD agents, First Time, M/M, Spoilers for 1x07, Theorizing about what happened to Phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:03:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilla840/pseuds/Morgane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil has a date with Clint. Of course nothing goes as planned - until it does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Development

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** spoilers for episode 7 of MAOS. Some violence as well due to an attempted kidnapping.
> 
> I'm working on Part 3, it shouldn't be too long :)

Half-way to New York, May contacts Phil from the cockpit. She’s got HQ on the line and it sounds urgent. He doesn’t sigh, but it’s a near thing. 

As he listens to Hill explain they need his team to extract Agent Shaw on the other side of the globe, Phil fleetingly wonders whether he’s just fooling himself when he thinks he can have a relationship with Clint. They haven’t even had their first date and Phil’s already cancelling. By the time he sorts the situation with Shaw out, Clint will probably be on an op somewhere, and who knows when Phil will be able to make it to New York again? He hasn’t been there since _before_. Something always comes up – not that Phil has ever been that broken up about it until now. To be in the same city as Clint and unable to see him would have been hell.

Phil gives himself a little shake and resolutely shuts down this line of thinking. He’s getting ahead of himself. Besides, Clint knows what their lives are like and he said yes anyway. Phil can deal with everything else as long as he has that.

He excuses himself once the briefing is over to call Clint. The conversation is short and to the point, and while neither of them manages to keep the disappointment entirely out of their voice, they both agree to reschedule later.

But after Shaw, there is the Hub and the mess that is Ward’s and Fitz’s op. Not to mention the thing with Skye, which Phil would rather not have found out in the first place. Her thanking him just makes it worse, and Phil has May turning the bus back towards New York before they’re assigned something new.

Then he calls Clint. He’s still frustrated over Fury denying him access to his own file – it’s his file, damn it! – but catching Clint on a transport on his way back to base lifts his mood considerably.

They make plans for the next day, and Phil can’t quite believe it when the bus actually lands stateside without further delays or interruptions. He doesn’t dare to push it and bypasses HQ, going straight from the airport to the coffee shop where he’s meeting Clint. 

He feels uncharacteristically jittery, hyperaware of his surroundings in a way he rarely is when he isn’t in the field, and he gets annoyed when it takes him forever to find a parking space. He knew this would happen, he even took it into account in his travel time, and there really is no reason why he should be feeling so anxious – or so relieved when he finally finds one. He’s early, after all. Everything will be fine. 

He still walks briskly to the coffee shop, only stopping when he gets within sight of it. Because he can see Clint, drumming his fingers absently against the table top as he scans the street. He’s even earlier than Phil, and for a moment there Phil just wants to stay right where he is, hidden from view so he can just look at Clint. But he doesn’t see that well from a hundred yards, and the pull the other man has on him is too strong. He starts walking again, and that’s when Clint spots him. He smiles – that much Phil _can_ see –, and Phil almost misses a step at what that smile makes him feel.

And then his phone rings. 

Phil stops again, taking it out of his pocket. It’s Fury. And Phil… Phil doesn’t want to answer. For the first time in his life, he wants to be selfish, wants an afternoon free of work and SHIELD and duty. Clint is waiting for him. They’re going to have coffee, and then he’ll ask Clint if he wants to go for a walk, and maybe later, if he is feeling brave enough, he’ll ask Clint if he can kiss him. 

No, Phil really doesn’t want to answer. But he wouldn’t be the man he is if he ignored a call from the Director, no matter how inconvenient, and so he answers, half-turning away from Clint but not fast enough that he doesn’t see the frown that’s now overtaken his face.

“What the fuck are you doing in New York?” Fury barks before Phil can say anything. 

It’s not a very good start.

“I have a date, sir.”

A small part of Phil is rather proud of the sputtering that ensues on the other end of the line, but Nick recovers quickly.

“No, you don’t. Get your ass back to the bus _now_. You know the rules, Coulson.”

“Agent Barton no longer answers to me in the field,” _As you very well know_ , Phil adds silently, glancing back at Clint as he tries to keep his temper in check. “Therefore the rules–”

“What are you talking about?” Fury interrupts, sounding genuinely confused for a second. “Wait, are you– I don’t care about the fucking _frat regs_ , you’re supposed to stay with the bus, not go traipsing around New York City. So stay with the fucking bus!”

“No.” Phil’s had enough of this bullshit.

The silence that follows is vaguely ominous.

“Excuse me?” Fury asks slowly and Phil straightens involuntarily at the danger in his voice. A hundred yards away, Clint stands, the tension in his body mirroring Phil’s.

“You heard me,” Phil says. He refuses to be intimidated. He’s waited and waited, and after months of making due with phone calls to preserve whatever illusion Fury has going on, he’s finally said to hell with it. Not that his restraint seems at have been necessary after all: it’s becoming increasingly clear that Fury knew he was in touch with Clint. And yet he still didn’t tell him the official truth and so Phil stayed away until he couldn’t anymore. He’s going to talk to Clint in person, and if Fury wants him back on the plane, he’d better be prepared to give him some answers. 

Phil wants to know what’s going on.

“Are you disobeying a direct order, Agent Coulson?”

“You want me back on the bus, you tell me why. Otherwise I’m going to enjoy my afternoon.”

He hangs up, figuring he can’t get in any more trouble than he already is, and stares at the screen for a few seconds, half-expecting Fury to call right back. When he doesn’t, Phil pockets his phone and looks at Clint again. He’s hovering by their table, clearly unsure whether he should go to Phil or wait. A waitress comes over to ask him if something is wrong, and as Phil starts walking towards him again, Clint shakes his head and sits back down.

For the next five seconds everything is perfect, until tires squeal behind him and Phil glances back to see two black vans coming to a sharp stop a few feet away. For a split second he thinks Fury decided to drag him back to the bus after all, but those aren’t SHIELD vehicles. 

Well, fuck.

Phil wishes he could say he was surprised by the small commando that comes bursting out of the vans, but sadly he can’t. 

Still. _Are you fucking kidding me?_

He takes the first one down and people scream. In the coffee shop, Clint’s already on his feet and running.

They’re well trained, Phil has time to think, but they’re not trying to kill him, which means he has the advantage. He also has Clint, and the man behind him goes down with a knife in his throat just before Clint joins the fray.

The fight seems to last longer than it actually does. Whoever they are, they’ve botched their extraction, and what was undoubtedly meant to be quick and painless is now dragging on in ways they can’t afford, not in broad daylight on a busy New York City street. All Phil and Clint need is to hold them off long enough for the NYPD or SHIELD to turn up. Their attackers know it and that makes them reckless – makes them stupid too, and stupidity gets you killed in a situation like this. They lost the upper hand the minute Clint got to Phil, and they should have aborted then but they didn’t. An already bad situation is about to become even worse for them.

As if on cue more cars come screeching to the scene, and Phil spares a glance in their direction to assess friend or foe. He is relieved to see SHIELD black, and barely dodges a blow coming his way.

It’s over quickly after that. Those still standing surrender and SHIELD takes them into custody, loading the rest into ambulances. Phil leans against a tree and catches his breath. He isn’t surprised to see Fury, looking highly unimpressed with the whole situation, but Melinda’s presence catches him off-guard – something he’ll have to ponder later.

“You okay?” he asks Clint, giving him a quick once-over. There is a cut under his eye and a growing patch of blood on his sleeve, and yet he seems confused by the question. Phil gestures at his arm. 

Clint looks down at it and shrugs. “Oh, that. Yeah, it’s just a scratch. What about you?”

“Fine.” It’s almost the truth too. “This… wasn’t what I had in mind for this afternoon.”

Clint grins and ducks his head at the same time. It’s oddly bashful, in a way Phil rarely associates with Clint, but it’s adorable. “You had big plans then?”

“I had. Hi, by the way.”

“Hi.”

“It’s really good to see you.”

Phil has no doubt they’re staring at each other with ridiculous smiles on their faces but he doesn’t care. Maybe the afternoon is salvageable after all.

“You two, with me.”

Of course, that was without counting on Fury.

\---

They drive back to HQ under heavy guard and are ushered inside quickly. People gape at Phil as they’re led to Medical to get patched up, and then some more when they’re directed into a conference room.

They sit side by side in the empty room, and Phil wants to hold Clint’s hand. The thought almost makes him blush, no matter how tame it is. He glances at Clint and looks away quickly when he finds Clint watching him back, and then admonishes himself to stop being ridiculous. If Clint’s looking at him there is no reason he can’t look back. They’re both adults here. 

He meets Clint’s eyes squarely, and gets a small grin as a reward.

“Any idea what’s going on?” Clint asks and Phil shakes his head.

“Fury hasn’t been keeping me in the loop on this.”

“Yeah, me neither. Then again I’m not supposed to know you’re alive so I’m–”

Whatever Clint was going to say is cut short by Fury’s sudden entrance, Hill and May following closely on his heels.

“You two are such a pain in my ass,” the man opens with, and Phil raises an eyebrow. 

“If you just told us what’s going on, maybe we wouldn’t be,” he points out. He understands need-to-know, but someone just tried to kidnap him. Clearly he needs to know. “So what’s going on, sir?”

“Let’s start with why you didn’t tell me Coulson was still alive,” Clint says. From the corner of his eye Phil sees him cross his arms over his chest defensively. “Obviously you knew I knew, so why not make it official?”

“Of course I knew.” Fury snorts. “You two have been calling each other for months, it’s not exactly subtle – oh relax, Barton, I don’t care about your little burner phone. Or your safe house.”

“Then why the hell did you bother pretending it was still a secret?” Clint’s struggling to keep his anger in check, and Phil does reach for him then, putting a hand on his arm. Clint is tense, but he relaxes a little at his touch, and so does Phil.

Fury sighs. “I didn’t tell you, Agent Barton, because I figured it was the only thing keeping the two of you apart and out of harm’s way.”

“Clearly you were wrong,” Clint snarks and gets a glare in response.

“No, I was _right_ , until Agent Coulson decided to change the rules.” Nick glares at him half-heartedly but Phil doesn’t feel at all apologetic.

“Who were those men?” He says instead.

“WSC goons.”

Phil frowns, the sentiment mirrored on Clint’s face. 

“What does the WSC want with Phil?” Clint asks before Phil can. Fury looks over at Hill, and the two have a silent conversation that lasts seconds. There is a moment when Phil thinks Fury is going to stonewall them, but instead:

“Agent May, if you could please step outside?” he says and May, who had been standing at attention since the meeting started, gives a short nod and leaves the room.

“Barton, I’d ask you to leave too but I know when to pick my battles,” Fury adds wryly before growing serious again. “You’re familiar with Regulation 458?”

Phil nods and Clint does the same. SHIELD doesn’t like losing agents, and their doctors are trained to go above and beyond to save lives. But there are times when modern medicine is overcome, and that’s when Regulation 458 comes in. Unless an agent has specifically stated they didn’t want extraordinary measures, doctors will go the extra-mile and throw anything experimental with a chance of success at their patient hoping it will make a difference. Usually it’s some version of the supersoldier serum, which R&D is always refining in the hope of getting somewhere, but that’s–

“No,” Phil says, which Nick counters with: “Oh yes.”

“What?” Clint asks.

“The supersoldier serum,” Phil tells him. “It worked? How is that even possible?”

Fury gestures at Hill. “We don’t know,” she says. “It never has before, and it hasn’t since. For some reason you were different, even if it obviously didn’t work perfectly.” She waves at Phil’s regular-sized still-scarred body. “That makes you valuable.”

Phil nods to himself. That much he understands. The other part though… “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Fury gives him a pointed look. “I know you, Coulson. You would have locked yourself in R&D like the nerd you are about all things Captain America. We didn’t have Extremis back then – are you going to tell me you wouldn’t have tried to figure out, to save as many people as you could?”

And Phil… Phil honestly doesn’t know what he would have done back then. It’s entirely plausible, yes. Still: “What’s wrong with that?”

“I don’t _want_ supersoldiers – couldn’t care less about them,” Fury says forcefully. “I like the regular kind better, and I’ve got plenty of those already. Good, reliable people. And sure, a healing serum is always nice, but I’m a pragmatist and what I _need_ is you in the field doing what you’re best at.”

“Obviously the WSC doesn’t agree.”

“Hell no. _They_ definitely want supersoldiers, and that’s why they can’t have you. You were safe on the bus, and I had Agent May keep an eye on things when you were out there – discreetly, of course. But they’ve never tried anything, probably didn’t have time to scramble a team to your location since you never stay long in one place – that’s bureaucracy for you.”

“How _did_ they find out? Or know I was meeting Clint today?”

“That’s the other problem. We’ve got a mole, someone high in the food chain. I tell our Level 7s and above you’re alive, and the next day there’s surveillance on Barton, Romanoff, Sitwell, Hill – well, Barton was already under surveillance, but you catch my drift. That’s no coincidence.” Phil nods. The WSC went after his closest friends looking for him. “The only thing they _don’t_ know for sure is that we used the serum – that’s something only Hill, Dr Streiten and I know – but they obviously suspect. We’ve all seen the video footage – you don’t come back from something like that, not without help. And what else could it be?”

Phil digests that slowly. _He_ hasn’t seen the video, Fury had it on restricted access by the time he came back to work, so it’s going to take a while for him to get used to the idea. If the WSC wants him that badly, he will only be safe in HQ or on the helicarrier. Just because they haven’t tried to grab him when he was in the field doesn’t mean they never will – even if they find the mole, the WSC has the resources to hunt him down wherever he’ll go. Phil can’t put his team at risk by being out there with them, can’t have their focus split between their mission and watching out for him. Even the Tower is out, the dozens of floors full of civilians making it too vulnerable. He’s screwed.

“What happens now?” Clint asks.

“Coulson, you’re staying put, right here at HQ. I’ve had temporary quarters assigned to you.” Hill slides a piece of paper across the table without prompting. “Agent Barton, you can do whatever the hell you please, I don’t care, as long as it doesn’t interfere with your job. Agent Romanoff has been investigating our leak with Hill. In fact, you may have helped speed things up for us. They knew when you filed a flight plan to New York and when you landed, so that narrows things down somewhat. Once we know more, we’ll discuss our options.”

Phil glances at Clint, who doesn’t seem surprised by Natasha’s involvement. Then what Fury said sinks in, and he raises a wry eyebrow at him.

“‘We’, sir?”

Fury glares at him. “What can I say, Coulson? When I don’t involve you you ruin all my hard work, so I might as well save myself the trouble.”

Phil is decidedly unimpressed but he’ll take what he can get. Fury and Hill leave the room, and he turns back towards Clint. 

This is decidedly not what he had in mind for this afternoon.

“Sure you still want that coffee?” he asks with a wry smile. He’s only half-joking though, and Clint shoots him a look that’s both fond and frustrated.

“I’ve been waiting for that coffee for years, you seriously think a couple of set-backs are going to change my mind? You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Good. I’m glad.” 

Clint’s answering smile is tentatively pleased, and Phil really wants to kiss him. Sadly a SHIELD conference room is not what he had in mind for their first kiss – yes, he’s thought about it. Shut up.

“I’m sure the mess will have something we can work with,” Clint says and Phil agrees, pushing to his feet.

Melinda is leaning against the wall outside the door and she straightens when she sees them.

“Look, Coulson –” she starts to say, but Phil waves her off.

“Melinda, you were doing your job. Thanks for watching my back out there.”

She relaxes. “Any time.”

“The team’s on stand-down. Can you tell the others and keep an eye out?” Phil doesn’t think the WSC will try to go against them, but who knows what they’ll do if they get desperate enough? It won’t hurt to keep them on alert.

“I will. Let me know what’s going on here?”

Phil nods and she turns towards Clint.

“Barton.”

“May.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Clint grins and inclines his head slightly.

“She does realise that gives me a lot of leeway, right?” he tells Phil as they watch her go before heading their own way, and Phil mentally groans. He knew it was a mistake to tell him about that time in Calgary.

“Don’t get any idea,” he mock-threatens, and Clint looks exaggeratedly wounded.

“But I’ve got so many already!”

If Phil had ever been one to blush he would be bright red right now. As it is, he isn’t about to let Clint one-up him.

“I look forward to hearing all about it, then.”

It turns out that Clint, on the other hand, does still blush. It makes Phil want to pin him to a wall and see how far down it goes.

Thankfully the mess isn’t far, and he’s saved from further temptation when he suddenly becomes the centre of attention for the two dozen agents there. His hurried entrance through the front door earlier means everyone in the building probably knows he’s still alive by now, regardless of their clearance level – the gossip at SHIELD is a thing of beauty. Phil would usually ignore them, but today he can’t help but feel hyperaware of the eyes on him, wondering if the mole is among them, and Clint seems to be in the same boat as he scans the crowd intently.

“Do you want to take it to go?” Phil says, and Clint looks back at him with a raised eyebrow and the beginning of a smirk. Phil knows better than to assure him he didn’t mean it _like that_ and Clint quickly grows serious again. 

“It might be a good idea, actually.”

They get their coffee, and Phil fishes the piece of paper Maria handed out to him earlier out of his pocket. It’s only got a floor and a number on it, and Clint whistles when Phil shows it to him. His new quarters are in the VIP section which has larger and more comfortable accommodations than SHIELD’s usual fare – most notoriously, the bed is a double. 

Phil will have to remember to thank Maria later.

“Come on, let’s go check out your new digs.”

The door has been set to his biometrics and it opens smoothly. It’s not much to look at but the place is functional, with a small living area and an even smaller kitchenette. The bed _is_ double though and Phil tries not to get any idea – and fails miserably.

“So how are you doing?” Clint asks from where he’s sprawling on the couch, cradling his coffee close.

Phil sits down next to him and gives the question some consideration only to shrug. “I don’t really know.”

So they talk, about the serum and how Phil’s been feeling since he woke up and whether one might influence the other. Clint doesn’t think so, argues his case quite strongly in fact, but Phil can’t be sure. Their conversation is as easy and comfortable as when they’re on the phone, but without hundreds of miles between them there is an undercurrent of tension between them that’s making everything electric. After Phil tries to drink from his empty cup for the second time, Clint takes it away from him gently and sets in on the coffee table. Then he takes Phil’s hand – cautiously, carefully – and Phil laces their fingers together and holds on tightly.

“I missed you,” he confesses. Suddenly the serum couldn’t be further from his thoughts.

“We talked yesterday.”

“It’s not the same.”

Clint sighs. “No, it’s not.”

There is a moment of silence as they both consider the fact that it’s not going to get better. Even without the complication of the WSC, Phil’s team is mobile while Clint’s mostly based in New York with the rest of the Avengers when he isn’t on an op for SHIELD.

“I don’t care,” Clint says suddenly, cutting through Phil’s thoughts. “I don’t care if we only see each other every three months. I can deal with that. The only way I’m not going forward with this is if you tell me you don’t want to.” 

Phil shakes his head sharply. “I want to. I want _you_. Clint, I…” He trails off, suddenly mesmerised by the tip of Clint’s tongue wetting his upper lip, and he has to bite his own to stop a groan from escaping his throat.

“Good, that’s good,” Clint says, a little feverishly. “Can I kiss you? Because I really–”

Phil is moving before Clint can finish his sentence, his last few words muffled by Phil’s mouth before he kisses him back. The angle is off and it’s a little clumsy at first, but then Clint’s hands come up to frame Phil’s face and the kiss turns deep and heavy. Phil can’t get enough of it, of Clint fucking his mouth with his tongue and then pulling Phil in so he can return the favour. Of the sounds he makes, half-swallowed moans that make Phil’s pants much too tight. Which reminds him:

“Do you want to take things slow?” he asks, pulling away for a second to check Clint’s level of comfort. He wants to take him to bed right now and do all sorts of wicked things to him, but if Clint needs him to go slow, then that’s what he’ll do. 

But Clint, it turns out, doesn’t want him to. “Are you kidding me? We’ve been taking things slow for months.”

“Oh, good,” Phil says faintly, staring at Clint’s lips. They’re very red, and Phil has to run his thumb over them. On his second pass Clint opens up and sucks his finger right in. His mouth is hot and wet, but it’s the heat in his eyes that makes Phil groan. He has to kiss Clint again then, because not doing so is unthinkable, but even that is not enough – he needs more, more contact, more _Clint_. He clutches at the back of his shirt to pull him closer but his brain hasn’t really thought things through and Clint almost falls off the couch trying to get where Phil wants him. Clint laughs breathlessly, righting himself quickly and dropping a quick kiss on Phil’s lips.

“Maybe the couch isn’t the best place for this,” Phil concedes. This couch, anyway.

The good thing about this place is that they don’t have to go far to get to the bedroom. Clint still manages to lose his shirt, shoes and socks on the way, and Phil is momentarily distracted because he may have seen Clint half-naked before but this is different and exciting in brand new ways. He gets to look and touch and taste, and Phil fumbles a little when he gets rid of his jacket and tie.

In the bedroom he hesitates, his fingers caught on his shirt’s buttons. It’s stupid, but it’s the first time he’s had sex since _before_ – first time someone who isn’t his doctor is going to see him completely naked. The scar is ugly, yes, but Phil isn’t a vain man and neither is Clint. No, he’s more concerned with what it represents, with bringing _him_ into this moment and ruining the mood.

“Let me?” Clint asks softly, and Phil nods, his heart in his throat. 

Clint opens Phil’s shirt quickly and efficiently. He doesn’t look away from Phil’s eyes while he does, not until the shirt is on the floor. He does look then and he doesn’t flinch away, cataloguing everything with those eyes of his while his hand comes up almost reflexively, hovering above the scar hesitantly as if awaiting permission. Phil gives it by taking his hand and pulling it forward until his palm makes contact, and then he has to close his eyes for a second, focusing on the touch that feels almost like a brand.

“I love you,” Clint says, and Phil’s eyes snap open at the words and the rawness in his voice. “So fucking much.”

Clint looks vulnerable in a way he seldom does and it makes something in Phil’s chest hurt, but in a good way. 

“I love you too,” he says and suddenly Clint is too far away, the point of contact on his chest not nearly enough. Luckily Phil is a man of action and so he tugs Clint to him with one hand on his neck and the other on the small of his back. Clint makes a broken sound when their chests press together, his hand still trapped between them, and their lips meet with renewed urgency, the kiss hot and frantic. 

They tumble onto the bed, almost smacking their foreheads together. It makes them laugh again, and they struggle to recapture each other’s mouth as they try to catch their breath. Wiggling out their pants is easy enough, until Phil remembers he’s still wearing his shoes. That sets them off again for no particular reason, and Clint is still grinning when Phil finally pins him down, their naked bodies pressed together from shoulder to toe.

“What do you want?” Clint asks, rolling his hips up and momentarily derailing Phil’s answer as their cocks rub together.

He wants it all, everything – anything – but some of it will have to wait. They didn’t exactly plan for this, and lube and condoms aren’t part of SHIELD’s room amenities.

“This, just this,” he says, because he wants to feel Clint against his skin, wants to see him as he falls apart under him. 

He thrusts down and Clint wraps his legs around him, his heels digging into Phil’s ass and the back of his thighs, urging him on. They rock together, swallowing each other’s moans, and it’s unbearably hot to watch Clint lose himself to the pleasure. Phil tries to keep things slow, he really does. He doesn’t want it to end, but well…

“Phil, fuck, _fuck_ , Phil, that feels so good. You’re so good.”

There is that.

“I knew you’d be a talker,” Phil grunts, the hand he isn’t using to support himself sliding under Clint to grasp his ass and keep him where he wants him as his hips snap forward hard a few times before he gets himself back under control.

“Yeah? You thought about it?” Clint asks smugly, and Phil nods – it’s all he can do right now.

“What else did you think about?”

“Clint…”

“Did you think about fucking me? Because I did. Thought about it, feeling every inch of your cock opening me up over and over and _over_ –” Phil’s slow rhythm is all but forgotten now and Clint groans his appreciation, his fingers digging into Phil’s back as their cocks grind together. “Thought about fucking you too,” he goes on breathlessly, “working you open while I suck your dick until you’re begging for mine, and giving it to you nice and deep until you come.”

“Fuck. How are you even still talking?” Phil pants, biting back a whimper at the images Clint’s words conjure, and Clint laughs. 

“It’s a gift, I guess. Wanna hear about all the times I thought about you bending me over and taking me on your desk?”

Phil swears and crushes his lips to Clint, which does shut him up – or maybe it’s the hand Phil wraps around both their cocks that does the trick.

There is no finesse to it, just the desperate need to make Clint come so he can watch, and it doesn’t take long. For all his talking, Clint is nearly silent when he comes. His body goes rigid, his face contorting in something Phil knows is pleasure but looks almost like pain in its intensity, and Phil feels his release on his fingers. He shudders, triumph and exhilaration pounding through his veins because he did this. He made Clint come.

“Don’t stop,” Clint slurs. He looks soft and sated, and Phil will take a moment to marvel at the sight later when he doesn’t feel like he’s going to explode. 

He does as Clint asks and just goes for it, desperate for his own release. He ruts against Clint’s hip until the man wraps a hand around him and squeezes, and then it’s all over, Phil coming with a groan he buries in Clint’s broad shoulder.

He lies there for a while, catching his breath while Clint traces lazy patterns over his back. Eventually he lifts his head to look at him, and Clint smiles, warm eyes and soft corners. Phil smiles back and drops a quick kiss on Clint’s chest.

“Be right back,” he tells him and forces himself out of bed. They’re getting sticky, and the en-suite bathroom is only five feet away.

He leaves the door open while he washes his hands and stomach and feels Clint’s eyes on him the whole time. He throws him a wet cloth and waits for Clint to throw it back, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of Clint naked in what is essentially his bed – it is pretty phenomenal. 

“Come here,” Clint says, holding an arm out.

Phil doesn’t need to be told twice.

He goes to Clint.

Everything else can wait ‘til morning.


End file.
